by Allan Cole
I learned Deoce was a princess as I suspected. Her mother was the chieftain of a small but wealthy principality named Salcae. In her clan, Deoce said, men, being better with details and smaller things, controlled the tents and the hearth, except in time of war, when everyone fought. The women were the scouts, the leaders, the war-captains. For political reasons her mother had betrothed Deoce to a nobleman from another clan. She was on her way to be married when her party was ambushed by the slavers.
At first I was greatly upset when told of the impending wedding. But Deoce quickly put my mind at rest when she explained the "nobleman" was a boy of less than six years, and since she had been in the company of strange men for so long without proper chaperoning there was no chance she would be considered suitable marriage material. However, my self-concern turned to anguish for her when I heard this.
Deoce chuckled when she learned the reason for my dismay. "It only means now I won't have to marry a little boy," she said. "In my own clan it is not so important to be a virgin. It is only important to... other people. People like- " she shuddered, "The slavers. They were going to sell me as a harvest sacrifice." She gave me a grim smile. "If I were not a virgin, at least I would have had a better chance of staying alive."
She looked at me, thoughtful. I wondered what was going on in her mind. Then she sighed. "In some ways," she said, "it was easier when our... words... were fewer."
"In what way?" I asked. But she just shook her head and said, never mind. Despite my question, I knew her meaning. If anything I had become an overly courtly suitor since that day on the embankment when I tested her with a kiss. Our new-found ease in speech drew me much closer to her than mere lust. As we sat chatting, I realized we had become fast friends. We became even faster friends a bit later, when she quizzed me about her journey and I felt enough trust to tell her the nature of my mission.
"The Far Kingdoms?" she cried when I named our goal. "Do you really mean to find them?" Her eyes were so full of enthusiasm and awe I was gladder than ever I had chosen such a course.
"The gods willing," I said.
"I am sure they must be," she said, "or you would not have come so far already. Among the Salcae it is said that once our people, and the people of the rest of the world, are joined to the Far Kingdoms, all violence will end. No more banditry, or war."
"No more war?" I laughed. "Now that is a pretty thought. But, I fear, my lovely Deoce, war is a permanent affliction, and has nothing to do with the dark forces that are said to be battling the enlightened folk of the Far Kingdoms. Sorcery it may be. Evil sorcery, at that. But killing is the nature of all things. It does not need help from the forces of the dark."
Her answer was a wave of a hand to the spring that bubbled up from the roots of a large tree. Beneath that tree, a hyena fled, howling in mock fear before the onslaught of a fat young monkey. "It is not so here," she said. I had no rebuttal.
Then, out of nowhere, she said: "I must see this for myself. I will go with you."
"That is not possible," I said, alarmed.
"What do you propose to do with me?" Deoce asked. It was a sensible question I had avoided for some time. "You cannot send me back to Salcae. You cannot turn back - not when you are so close; so there is no way I can join a trading caravan, for there is no such thing in this desolate land. You can only go forward. It seems reasonable, then, that you supply me with weapons - I am a skilled warrior, as all women are in Salcae - and let me travel with you as a companion, rather than another burdensome bit of baggage."
Once again I was left without rebuttal. I laughed, and she started to take offense, until I explained she reminded me of my own sister, Rali, who had a soldier's way of striking at the plain truth of the matter. "You would like my sister," I said.
"I am sure I will," I thought I heard her say, but she spoke so low I wasn't certain. "Pardon?" I said.
She opened her mouth to answer, then shook her head. "Oh, Amalric," she said, "are the men of Orissa all like you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Enough," she cried. "What does a woman have to do to collect that kiss you promised?"
With that she flung herself on me. She was small, but her weight carried me back to the ground, and her mouth crushed against mine. I was momentarily startled; but only momentarily, as eager female flesh squirmed against my own, and the fire I had kept damped so long exploded. We dragged at each other's clothing until there was nothing between us. I rolled on top of her, her legs splayed wide, hips thrusting up to meet me and I plunged into her like a wild man. I felt resistance, heard her groan in what I thought was pain and I tried to pull back. But her hands gripped my buttocks and pulled me into her harder. The resistance gave way and madness overtook me again and I rode her on and on, our hips slamming together, our mouths and hands going at one another like a fury.
We made love all that night. In the morning we bathed, devoured a quick breakfast, then crept far away from our companions, where we made love until exhaustion overtook us. As the days went by our passion only intensified; as did our love. And there was no longer a question she would accompany us on our journey. I tell you now, if I were a master Evocator I would cast a spell so powerful it would take me back to those days with Deoce in the peaceful wilderness of that mysterious crater. I would live there with her until the end of our appointed time in this world.
I don't know how many more days we lingered, for I was too bemused with Deoce to keep count. But when it ended, something precious was lost that I have never been able to find in all my long life.
It was just after the hunting period, when all the creatures reverted to their normal natures and ate. We had scrupulously kept our part of the bargain during our stay in the crater. That day we had taken two antelope and a few fish. We roasted and ate with gusto, and set the remaining meat out on drying racks. Janos and I were sprawled on a bank, basking in the last sunlight, contented after our meal. Cassini was restringing his bow. One of the antelope had fallen to his arrow, to his enormous satisfaction. It was odd an Evocator should take such delight in the things common men must do to win their daily sustenance, but Cassini strutted about after a kill as if he were the most manly of hunters.
I heard Deoce give a delighted cry and raised myself up on my elbow. She was standing beneath a sprawling fruit pointing up into its branches. "Look at the monkey," she called. "It's marvelous."
I strained for a glimpse, and spotted it perched on a branch, gnawing on ripe fruit and scolding Deoce. It had an amazing coat: the creature's fur was a blaze of many colors - green, and red, and blue and gold, all swirling about in the most remarkable pattern. "I've never seen its like," Janos said. We rose to take a closer look.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cassini rise as well, his bow clutched in his hand, but I thought nothing of it. We joined Deoce beneath the tree. The monkey leaped about, flinging itself from branch to branch. We laughed at its antics. "Just the size for a fancy hat," Cassini said.
I turned, puzzled. "What do you-" To my horror I saw he had the bow drawn and an arrow nocked.
Janos shouted: "Cassini. No!" At that instant Cassini loosed his shaft. For a moment I thought it would miss, for the little creature was in mid-leap from one branch to the next. But good fortune rarely smiles on man or beast in such moments and we watched helplessly as the arrow sped true. It buried itself in the creature's breast; the monkey gave a cry of pain and terror so like a manchild's you had to believe Cassini had just committed murder.
The monkey plunged to Cassini's feet. He picked it up by the arrow, face lit with victory. "What a great shot," he boasted. "I didn't even use a spell on the arrow."
Deoce stood there, eyes wide, mouth open in a tragic "O."
"Damn you, Cassini," Janos shouted. "You broke the agreement.
Cassini shrugged. "So what? It was a silly bargain. And now I have the material for a lovely hat to shade my head." Janos raised his fist, as if about to strike. I saw Deoce clutch the haft of her kn
ife. In my own breast I felt hot fury pouring out, and if I'd had a weapon at hand I would have attacked. Then a great revulsion struck me and I turned to spew my guts. But a terrible scream sounded: a tiger howling for blood. Someone cried out in terror and we whirled to see men fleeing for their lives, a tiger bounding hot on their heels.
Janos raced for them, picking up a firebrand from the campfire as he ran. He flung it into the tiger's face, and the beast howled, leaped over the men and disappeared into the trees. But no sooner had that danger passed, then we heard other roars of fury.
"What is happening?" Deoce cried. She yelped in pain as a missile was hurled from the tree, striking her a stinging blow on her arm. That missile was followed by a dozen others, and then scores of hard objects were raining out of the trees. We couldn't see our attackers, but we knew them by the angry monkey cries. Hundreds were massing; so many, the trees bent under their weight. We could hear the other beasts of the crater calling for revenge. In the pond I saw the two big lizards swimming toward shore. They were joined on the embankment by a pack of hyenas. In moments the bank swarmed with carnivores gathering for the attack.
"Flee for your lives," Cassini shouted, and ran for the camp. At that moment the skies opened up and a great deluge fell. The rain was so heavy it was difficult to draw a breath; but to our relief, we saw it had stymied the animals as well. Our new enemies took cover. We knew, however, the respite would be brief. When the storm was over, they would renew the attack. There was no hope our band could stand against the united forces of the crater.
There were no conversation; no discussion of what we should do next. As the lighting and thunder crashed and the rain poured out of the heavens, we jammed our gear into our packs, quicklashed them to the asses and fled.
Deoce and I stopped at the top of the crater. We turned for one last look at the place where our love had blossomed. But there was nothing to be seen in the storm's fury. Janos came up behind us. He put a hand on each of us, a hand of comfort. The three of us stood there for a long moment, the rain beating down on our forlorn figures.
Then he said: "It is time to go, my friends. Come." The three of us turned and stumbled out of paradise.
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE WASTELAND
We fled the valley into a wasteland: for leagues the land stretched, flat and studded with rocks and flint and shale. The only plants we saw were gray, twisted trees, which reached low along the ground like old men's fingers. We saw no wildlife, and the only water we found was brackish, and so deep we had to dig for hours before the slightest moisture trickled out.
We were forced to wear our tattered footwear once more, and all too soon their soles were cut through. We wrapped rags around our feet, and cut canvas socks to ease the burden of the poor beasts who bore our goods. Cassini must now have rued his insistence on having boots made before we entered the valley: his last pair wore through in less than a day, and there was nothing to make new ones from. Not that anyone would have made them for him anyway - no one was speaking to the Evocator beyond the necessities of duty. Our anger grew as he found it increasingly hard to cast his spells around the relict, and we depended more and more on navigating by the sun, and taking star readings after nightfall for the next day's navigation.
We spoke to one another less and less, and then through sun cracked lips, as if all of us were growing to hate each other. At least there was no conflict between Deoce and myself; although we had so little energy, we rarely made love. There were mutterings some of the men, especially 'Lione, about the privileges of the rich, and how I was doing less work than any of them. They chose not to notice I had made myself the expedition's cook - not because of any particular talent or feeling for the art, but simply because I knew the truth of what my father had told me as a boy: "if you carve yourself the largest piece of the pie, you must also have done, and be seen to have done more of that day's labor than anyone else." Not that cooking was an onerous chore, requiring nothing more than putting water, some smashed corn and dried vegetables and spices in a pot and shredding a bit of dried meat into the "soup." No one - yet - mentioned killing the asses for food.
Another great absence we noted was the Watchers. I did not know whether to be relieved, fearful or concerned that we had lost our way... Even though we did not know whether their purpose was maleficent or benevolent, we had grown use to seeing the speck on the horizon or mesa top.
Then one night we made a dry camp, mechanically chewed what dinner we could stomach, and tried to sleep, each man curled into a hip-hollow he'd dug. I lay on my back, with my hand outstretched to touch Deoce. It was not hot, not cold; the sky was very clear, and very dark, and the stars seemed especially close. Then I thought it grew hazy, as if a sandstorm was rising, but I did not move. I was asleep, and I dreamed.
My dreams must have lasted all night, because when I woke, I felt sore in every muscle as if I had not slept at all. Deoce seemed just as tired: there were dark circles under her eyes. I was foolish enough to mention her haggardness and she snapped at me, then apologized. Everyone in the party looked as wrung out as we did. Wordlessly, we all began reassembling our packs for the day's journey. Janos broke our stupor suddenly, and ordered us all to assemble around him.
Without preamble, he began: "Cassini, I dreamed last night." I expected a sarcastic retort from the Evocator, but Cassini just nodded, as if he knew just what Janos was talking about.
"I think," Greycloak went on, "that all of us did. Am I correct?" Surprised nods, grunts, agreement from all of us. "I could tell you my dream exactly, but we cannot waste too much time on details. In short, my dream told me that this region we are marching through, this blasted heath, comes not from the gods, but from something else. I dreamed that this was once a fallow, peaceful land, with cities and towns, even greater than what Cassini's vision told him of the river and the land beyond the Shore People's borders. This land was shattered, and destroyed. Destroyed in but one week. The people were killed or driven away, I do not remember that well. The water sank far beneath the ground, and even the hills and mountains were crushed, as we might crush an ant hill beneath a boot. Yes? Is my dream your dream? I shall let our Evocator finish, then. What caused this destruction?"
Cassini's face was even more haunted than anyone's. "A spell," he whispered. "A spell or a web of spells, cast by Evocators with powers far beyond those I could even dream of, far beyond the sorcery that tore down Lycanth's great wall or the Archon's tempest we barely survived. Not only was this land obliterated between the setting and the rising of the sun, but enough of the spell's power lingered on, so that this land shall never again be fruitful."
Janos asked: "Can you tell us where this spell came from?"
Cassini shook his head. "Only that your dream was right, and it was cast by men... or by creatures who once were man, and not gods."
"From th' Far Kingdoms," one of the men muttered. His name was Sylvn. "An' we're walkin' down their throats like roebuck follyin' th' net trail into th' killing ring."
"No," Cassini said flatly. "I sensed then, and still do, great magick from the east - from where our talisman shows the Far Kingdoms to be. But this is not from that direction... but from everywhere... and nowhere."
Janos came to his feet. "So if this spell yet lingers on... and to use your own words about the killing floor, Sylvn, we had best move ourselves beyond spear-reach, even if that spear might be a sorcerous one."
Quickly spoken by both of them, and we did pack quickly and continue moving. But the men's fears were not assuaged. We began seeing more and more dark looks, looks of anger and fear and guilt, looks that broke away when one of the four of the expedition leaders noticed them. Janos began marching close to the two asses containing our water supply, and Maeen stayed close the ones with our treasure. I asked Janos if there could be a mutiny, and he told me no. "Not yet," he said. "They are too tired; no one has died; and, most importantly, none of them see a place to flee to. The most likely
would be the five we rescued from the slavers, since their homes would be closer. But they are still beaten down from their capture. No. No one will murder us in our sleep. Yet."
The next day, Cassini lost his magick. His shouts woke me just at dawn, and I ran to him, thinking that perhaps a desert serpent had sought him for warmth. Cassini was sitting with the cloak he used for his bedding, his face as blank and terrified as an infant who's had his first nightmare, and wakes knowing nothing but terror.
"I... I do not have my spells," he said. "I... my mind is wiped clean!" He could barely talk, and it took some time to find out just what he meant. He'd awakened and determined to cast a simple spell that might wipe out the fleas that were living in the lining of the cloak. "But I could not... cannot... remember the gods to use in the incantation; or, the incantations themselves; or even what symbols might be drawn...I cannot, in fact, remember any symbol except the circle, and the lowliest dolt knows that to be magickal."
"Then we are naked," Maeen said, before he caught himself. I do not think that anyone else heard him, but they did not need to. If Cassini had lost his powers, that would mean all the little spells, from those that were mean a leak in our waterskins would seal itself to whatever protective words he'd cast to shield us from outside sorcery were gone. We were naked. Even worse was that, without the words, the Watcher's relict, our "compass" was useless. I was very grateful that at least we'd had some warning, and Janos had begun relying on secondary, if less dependable, forms of navigation. With luck our path still continued toward the still-unseen mountains and the five peaks and the pass through them I had begun thinking of as the Fist of the Gods. We marched on, despair settling deeper.
